


Kabuklar

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Food is People, Freudian Elements, Hannibal Season 03 Spoilers, Hannibal is Hannibal, Istanbul, M/M, Mild Smut, Post-Series, crabs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 03:57:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4862189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Shame seems… senseless, at this point in our friendship,” he let the shirt fall to the cracking tile floor and moved his hands to the zip on his trousers.</p><p>Hannibal carefully folded his shirt and set it down on the sink against the wall, his hands then moving to the button on his jeans, “In paradise all men are naked and unashamed.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kabuklar

**Author's Note:**

> It was one of those nagging Ideas that just had to be dealt with.

God had never seemed a suitable figure for which Will Graham was willing to genuflect, but in the shade of Hagia Sophia he was tempted. Hannibal’s eyelashes rested against the browning skin of his cheek, their once dark colour faded from too much sun. He was a quiet beauty in the midsummer of Istanbul.

Will had often caught himself staring at the delicate freckles forming across the bridge of Hannibal’s nose. There was no discernible pattern to the way they presented themselves, but Will liked to think that there was. He liked to think that each of Hannibal’s new spots reflecting in them the sparks of life he had trod out. There were quite a few freckles.

“You’re staring again, Will,” Hannibal hadn’t opened his eyes. He never had to with Will.

“Force of habit,” Will looked away from Hannibal’s freckled cheeks and instead gazed at the towering dome of Hagia Sophia.

“A new habit. You were always a bit taken, but never to this current extent,” Hannibal opened his eyes slowly.

Will rolled his eyes, “I couldn’t see you then. Staring would have done me little good. Now…”

Hannibal turned to look at Will with a smile. It was the sort of genuinely happy (and perverse) smile he had received that day in Florence; the day they met again in front of a Botticelli, “Have you found a higher power, Will?”

Will chuckled at Hannibal’s almost suggestive question, “I don’t really think God has anything to do with this conversation.”

Hannibal smiled, “We both know that’s not entirely true, Will.”

Will turned his body to face Hannibal and raised one brow expectantly, the stretch pulling his skin tight where his scar was still pink and raised, “And what about you? How does Hagia Sophia hold up to the Cappella Palatina?”

Hannibal tilted his head in thought, “Hagia Sophia is certainly grand. It would be a fit addition to a memory palace.”

“But…” Will looked over Hannibal’s posture as they stood next to ablutions fountain and looked up at the great achievement of the Byzantine empire.

“But it does not have the memories attached to it. It’s simply not the Cappella Palatina,” Hannibal smiled a sort of private smile, one that held years of memories in a single pointed canine.

“We’ll have to work on making some then,” Will smiled too; a smile of suggestions and persuasions… an invitation to strip themselves of the person suits they had been wearing for three months since they crawled onto the wet sand and out of the Atlantic; reborn.

Hannibal walked the two steps between them to take Will’s hand, “What should we have for dinner?”

:::::

They walked through the fish market on their way ‘home.’ Hannibal picked out two edible brown crabs, two round loaves of pumpernickel, and a basket of root vegetables

“This should be sufficient enough,” Hannibal placed the basket in Will’s arms and they headed down the street to their home.

The sun was beginning to set, but Istanbul was still active; its citizens didn’t seem to require the regular sleep of Baltimore Citizens, or the nightly relaxations of Florence folk. Rather, Istanbul seemed to hold the title for ‘City that doesn’t sleep’ better than New York ever could.

Will and Hannibal steered themselves around and through crowds, avoiding bicycles and scooters as they walked home.

“Hey! Watch it, tourist!” a man slammed his shoulder right into Will’s; it jerked the basket he was holding and pulled his arm from its place linked through Hannibal’s.

Will righted himself and sent a glare at the man’s retreating person. He looked up at Hannibal.

“I don’t feel like steak tonight; perhaps tomorrow?” Hannibal smiled fondly at Will, retaking his arm.

::::

The crabs whistled and screamed as they hit the boiling water. They were left to cook as Hannibal came to check on Will’s progress with the vegetables.

“How are you doing, Will?” Hannibal’s arm slipped around his waist possessively as he sliced beets and yams into quarter-inch think cubes.

“I’m doing fine. I can cut vegetables you know,” Will watched his hands push the knife over the red of the beet, pink staining the tips of his fingers.

Hannibal chuckled, “I don’t doubt your culinary capabilities, I just don’t want you to cut yourself. We wouldn’t want you bleeding all over dinner now would we?”

Will turned slightly in Hannibal’s grip and raised his brow in fond disbelief, “Now that would just be distasteful.”

Hannibal chuckled, letting his arm fall from Will’s side in order to move away and stir whatever he had cooking in the other pot.

Will sliced the rest of the vegetables in silence before handing them on a tray to Hannibal and watching as the man let them fall in the great mixing pot with an array of spices and a small container of pig fat.

Will leaned against the counter of their small kitchen, knife still in hand, and smiled at Hannibal, “What exactly are we cooking?”

Hannibal threw a handful of some sort of herb into the pot, “Occasionally I like to experiment, Will.”

Will laughed, “I see, you’re just throwing things in a pot and hoping they’ll taste good.”

Hannibal smiled, “More or less. I do have some method to my apparent madness you know.”

Will tapped the knife against the cheap linoleum counter, “I’d argue it’s mostly method.”

Hannibal poured two ounces of white wine into the stew.

:::::

“Brown crab, with root vegetable stew, served in a pumpernickel bread bowl,” Hannibal placed one dish in front of him, and one on his own table setting.

The bread loaves had been hollowed out and a generous serving of stew ladled into each; the crabs had been placed whole on top of the stew and then a ‘lid’ of bread placed over them. It gave the rather unique appearance of the crab crawling out of his hole.

“I love your presentation,” he waited for Hannibal to seat himself before removing the lid of his dinner.

“I do the best with what I have,” Hannibal removed the lid from his own meal.

They both snapped a leg off their crabs. The resounding crack shot through the quite of their meager apartment. It wasn’t much in terms of luxury, but it was a price Hannibal paid to be with Will. Luckily, it had a view of Hagia Sophia from the bedroom window.

Will snapped the leg of crab at the joint, pulling the meat from the shell with the expertise of a seasoned fisherman. He dipped the hearty flesh into the stew and slipped it over his tongue. Hannibal watched his every movement.

“It’s different; but good. The ginger really…brightens it up,” Will cracked another joint of the leg, and again pulled the meat wholly from the shell.

Hannibal nodded and cracked the joint on his own crab, “I’m glad you enjoy it. The pig fat helped I think.”

Will chuckled, “Of course it did; it wouldn’t _really_ have been a proper meal without it.”

Hannibal placed the crab in his mouth with a smile, “I’m not so sure about that. Crab, in its own way, inspires a feeling of preeminence.”

Will chewed his food carefully, swallowing slowly and raising a brow at Hannibal, “Oh?”

Hannibal smiled, holding a crab leg out in front of him, showing it to Will as he turned it slowly in his hand, “The crab is a descendant of some of the first creatures to slither onto the shore of the earth. Their shells, their entire defense mechanisms have been in the making for millions of years. For example, stone crabs have a claw that can generate up to 19,000 pounds of pressure per square inch. Crabs are such hardy creatures, and yet, with a little time and some hot water, a man can crack their shell with only their hands.”

Hannibal snapped the shell of the crab and dipped the meat into his stew with a capricious smirk.

Will leveled him a smirk of his own, “A little time and some hot water?”

Hannibal raised a brow, “Yes.”

“Do you think it works on people?” Will broke off a piece of the bread bowl and drenched it in the stew.

“I’m sure an argument could be made for the affirmative; though I remember the Atlantic as being quite cold,” Hannibal placed the empty shell of the crab leg on a small side dish.

Will smirked, “I wasn’t talking about the Atlantic.”

:::::

Hannibal drew a bath after dinner.

The one nice luxury of their small apartment was a large claw-foot tub. It was older, something installed in the eighties perhaps; its outside was chipped and peeling, but the inside had recently been redone.

A small bottle of bath salts was poured into the hot water and allowed to dissolve. Hannibal had insisted on buying it a few weeks back, saying that if he couldn’t wear the suits he favoured, then he would at least use the salts that he did.

Will stood across the room from Hannibal and watched as he mixed the water with his hand, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up to the elbows. He kept his eyes on the man as the steam from the water caused the product in his hair to loosen, letting stray hairs fall into his face.

Will began to pull his plain white t-shirt from his skin, peeling it off deliberately as Hannibal’s eyes left the water.

“You’re shameless today, Will,” Hannibal stated. He stood up from the floor and began to unbutton his own shirt.

“Shame seems… senseless, at this point in our friendship,” he let the shirt fall to the cracking tile floor and moved his hands to the zip on his trousers.

Hannibal carefully folded his shirt and set it down on the sink against the wall, his hands then moving to the button on his jeans, “In paradise all men are naked and unashamed.”

Will hummed thoughtfully as he let his trousers hit the floor and kicked them aside, “I never took you for a Freudian man.”

Hannibal shrugged, stepping out of his jeans carefully and setting them aside with his shirt, “I’m not. Most of Freud’s work seems arbitrary to me; but one cannot deny his significant contributions to certain areas of psychology.”

Will removed his boxer shorts unhurriedly and smiled, “His thoroughgoing of naturalism was refreshing.”  

Hannibal removed his briefs in a similar fashion to Will, “I suppose, but I find his apparent obsession with sexual intercourse to be off-putting. Not all desires are motivated in such a way.”

Will smiled easily at Hannibal, “No, they’re not.”

Hannibal gestured to the tub with the tilt of his head and Will moved towards him. Hannibal offered his arm to Will, which he took and stepped up into the too-hot water. He held on to Hannibal’s arm as the other man stepped into the tub beside him. Together, they lowered themselves into the water, Will’s back to Hannibal’s chest.

Will sighed softly as the water washed over his skin, pulling at his scars and opening his pores. He laid his head back against Hannibal’s shoulder as the man placed his arms on the lip of the tub; he let himself be caged by Hannibal.

“I admit, that I’m not sure I haven’t already pulled back your shell, Will,” Hannibal breathed lightly onto Will’s neck.

Drips of water from the leaking tap helped to break up the calm silence. They sat like that for a good while, listening to the dripping…to each other’s steady breath.

“Most of it,” Will shifted his body minutely to the side, allowing him to look Hannibal in the eye.

“I shall have to take care of the rest,” Hannibal breathed slowly and leaned in to place a kiss on the raised scar of Will’s cheek.

The reason for Hannibal’s fondness of the scar left by the Red Dragon was no mystery to Will. It was a visible and shocking reminder of the fact that Will was here with him.

Hannibal’s hands slipped down around Will’s waist and smoothed across his permanent smile, “Maybe I should start here.”

His right hand moved lower, ghosting over the flesh of Will’s thigh, “Or perhaps here instead.”

Will breathed in deeply, “A little to the left, I think.”

Hannibal chuckled and moved his hand to cup Will’s flaccid penis in his hand, “Here?”

Will nodded, “Yes.”

Hannibal’s hand held him gently; not moving or stroking, simply cradling him, “You’re remarkably uninterested.”

Will shrugged, “Give me a minute.”

Hannibal chuckled, waiting patiently for Will to harden in his hand, “Perhaps prostate stimulation would be better suited this time around? After all, it’s been a week since I was last inside you.”

Will lolled his head to the side, resting his lips against Hannibal’s throat, “Perhaps you just need to give it some time.”

Hannibal hummed thoughtfully. He began to rub small circles over Will’s stomach, “Perhaps.”

Will smiled, letting his teeth graze Hannibal’s flesh as he pulled his lips away.

They sat like that for a while; Hannibal hadn’t so much as moved the hand holding his penis, but Will was slowly hardening. The stimulation to his stomach and the insistent presses to his scar had him quickly reaching Hannibal’s level of enthusiasm.

“Are you ready, Will?” Hannibal’s own erection was apparent, the bulge of it pressed to his lower back.

Will nodded.

Hannibal’s tightly strung body relaxed and he began to stroke up and down Will’s erection.

Will moaned quietly, his head falling to the side once more, “You’re very practical in your technique; have I ever told you that?”

 “You might have mentioned it once or twice,” Hannibal’s lips descended to press surely against Will’s cheek again.

Will let Hannibal pull and tug at him until he was whimpering.

“Hannibal, I’m…”

Hannibal nodded against Will’s hair and he came, spilling his semen into the cooling water. He panted against Hannibal’s chest and felt the man grip him tighter.

“See, Hannibal,” he blew out a puff of air, “It really does work on people.”

Hannibal smiled against the back of his head, “I suppose I should prepare you for dinner then?”

Will chuckled, “By all means.”

::::

Hannibal and Will stretched out together on their queen bed, back to chest like they had been in the tub. Hannibal’s hips pulled back slowly and then rocked back forward, pushing his erection between Will’s slicked up thighs.

“Will…” he gripped Will’s shoulders as he came.

Will smiled, the feeling of Hannibal’s semen dripping over his thighs not a new, nor wholly uncomfortable feeling. Regardless, Will removed his body from the bed without words and cleaned the mess from his skin before returning to Hannibal’s side and cleaning him as well. When he was done, he discarded the cloth and climbed under the covers.

“I think we should have seafood more often,” Will wrapped his arms tiredly over Hannibal’s waist.

Hannibal chuckled, “Have you ever had oysters?"

**Author's Note:**

> Kabuklar is the Turkish word for 'Shells'.


End file.
